dole this, mad dogs.
So, today I have been thinking about renewing my vows with the following former loves,
some recent-former and some pretty-heavily-former-former:
Jason Mraz, feta cheese, hope, disillusionment, chambourd, the word "canapes," Scott Wolf in his Party of Five days, dusk, and fashion headbands.
Let me break this down.
I first gave a small chunk of my heart to Jason in the "You and I Both" video of early '03. He wore a Tarheels-blue tuxedo and had crazy/funtastic curly hair. And he was so fucking wicked endearing. And then I ruined it for myself by putting the song on a mix CD for this guy that I just just started dating. And I didn't even really like him very much. Stupid, stupid, stoopid. And then he tells me that he thinks about "us" when he hears the song. I instantly cut off all ties with said guy; subsequently, hot & innocent Jason got shoved away as well. Sigh. Jason, 45 retroactive pineapples.
I ate feta cheese today and really appreciated it for the first time in a while. I would give it pineapples, but that would leave a bad taste-feel in everyone's mouths; instead, I will give it 56 sun-dried tomatoes as a one-time sub. Kinda like a loose argument for retaining Doug Flutie.
I also decided that I have sorta forgotten how to hope for things, so I'm going to make a point to filter this abstraction into my psyche. Results pending.
And a little disillusionment is oftentimes comforting. Like you just stepped in a dirty marsh with one leg and you don't have a change of pants and you have to walk around all day with one half of one leg all dirty and algae-y and wettish. Seems to heighten your awareness in the same mode as a Johnny Walker on the rocks in a bar with a mahogany glow in a town whose name seems to have too many consonants in a row.
On the other end of the alcohol spectrum, you have chambourd, the Phillips Exeter of hard liquor. And it tastes like berries and sweetness. Kinda like I imagine Prince William would taste.
(Again, some semblance of kidding, some semblance of not...)
"Would you like a canape, sir?" Yea, that's that for that. Just fun.
The Party of Five thing came up this morning because I heard "Closer to Free" while I was running. It forced me to look for overturned trash barrels, snow chunks, and dead kittens to jump over gleefully. I'm sorry-- dead cats aren't funny. But it is funny that Scott Wolf has beautiful dimples, and I wish that show was on now rather than then, because I would have appreciated it more. (my verb tenses just folded atop themselves grossly)
If the light was good enough... I would like to read Catch-22 in a meadow with a black lab at dusk.
[That sounded a bit too much like "I would like to accuse Colonel Mustard of killing Professor Peacock in the parlor with a candlestick"...but I was totally attempting some degree of sincerity there.]
Fashion headbands: I bought one. And I will wear it. And I'm a little bit excited about that. Not as excited as I am about being disillusioned, but pretty damn close.